Scroll Down …ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ you but fear and common sense.
Nestor was over to the trailer this afternoon and we were reminiscing a little about the old days back at Insty Burger. I did landscaping and policed the parking area for trash and Nestor was in charge of the grease traps and pickle line if you folks will recall.
Anyways, at one point we were having quite a problem with flies landing on the prep tables and buzzing the employees and all. Under those conditions it’s nearly impossible to construct a Green Chile Insty Big Double, our signature sandwich.
Well, it turns out that a certain Octavia Calderon (pickle line) had been leaving the little window in the supply room open so as to facilitate a nagging hemp addiction.
At any rate, there was sometimes quite a bit of standing water on that side of the building and it was just the perfect breeding ground for flies at that time of year.
Well, I guess the thing that was bothering Nestor was how come when we got a similar problem in this country to deal with right now (people traveling to the US with contagious diseases) it takes hundreds of millions of dollars and commitees and czars and presidental hand wringing and all, why don’t somebody just take a little initiative like Nestor did back then and shut the effin’ window.
Nestors thinking maybe this fella, he likes flies or something.
Something….Could be this dude is a reptilian illuminati shapeshifter. Pilar is convinced of it.
Time will tell.
Spent the weekend in Arizona.
The gas was cheap, the food was good, and to round things out, on the last day a Mexican maid got to sample a snippet of me and Miss Robin having sex at the Best Western on Arizona Street.
Evidently, the front desk clerk neglected to reflect our recent room change status on the housekeeping roster…it happens.
It’s not worth getting in to. The room change, that is.
And really, all I wanna say about the sex part is…I’m glad it wasn’t me on top with my ass facing the door like a scatter gun.
They don’t call it the wild west for nothing.
If I’d seen something like that I would have repatriated.
There’s no reclaiming that innocence.
Love me some Shirley Temple…America’s Sweetheart. Cute as a three holed button.
Not sure where I’m going with this one. My life is getting complicated again. Turns out I have some inheritance coming. Just enough to fight over.
Guess who lives furthest away from the loot.
I always knew this day was coming, and honestly, it’s playing out just like I thought it would. I hate being right all the time.
My sister is cleaning out the house my Mom was renting. She’s currently unemployed…unless you count Lesbian wedding documentaries. I somehow doubt that the IRS has been allowed to count them.
Apparently, she was able to liberate enough free time to rifle through my Mothers belongings and award herself a late model Toyota van and an equal share of the the bank accounts for her trouble. There is an executor, but, evidently that don’t mean nuttin these days.
We have become a lawless society. Rotting from the head down.
Well, I gotta go… Nestor is coming by with a box of those frozen pizza roll deals…woo hoo.
Been away for awhile. My Mom died. Nothing a time machine can’t cure. Gonna pick up some PVC and bailing wire tomorrow. And more Tecate.
My Mom was pretty sure I was the funniest person on Earth. The joke is on her.
Insert rimshot here.
It’s a drum thing…look it up…Catskills.
I am special. She was right about that. I was enrolled in special classes and everything and in addition received some very special extra curricular attention…(see my article on wood shop teachers)
It got better…eventually
Cynthia C…you know, from the law library…she was very supportive, as was Miss Robin.
She’s a good egg…they both are.
Anybody remember how to fold a paper swan?
Just got another missive from Cambria Bicycle Outfitters…seems that Giro has a new helmet out. The Aspect…suggested retail price tag of one hundred and seventy five dollars.
Lets get sumpin’ straight right outta the hatch. There ain’t nothing you can do to a bicycle helmet other than have Troy Lee paint it right in front of you that would make it intrinsically worth more than twenty bucks.
Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s foam and fucking plastic.
Did you know that you throw em away after kissing the pavement just once. It’s true.
The trendies like em though. Same crowd that’s at them damn Zoo concerts.
The free range chicken crowd, Know them by their deeds.
I’m getting old. I could use some head protection.
The other one.
Miss Robin, Nestor and I made it out to the Friday night concert at the zoo…hmmm.
Audience participation and long fucking name dropping stories…doesn’t this chick have any regular friends?
Perla Batalla, wonderful singer, but, in my opinion talent looking for a genre. She sang my favorite song…Koo Koo Karoo Paloma….butchered it. It’s intended to be a duet. Sang some Pete Seeger too, and lots of Leonard Cohen…like I say, talent looking for a genre.
Sang Volver too, already had a speech prepared for the occasion. Something along the lines of how it wouldn’t be hard to get “this crowd” to sing along. Ostensibly because, you know, being in Albuquerque, of course, the audience would be teaming with Hispanics….it wasn’t, just pretty much Nestor and some tattooed kid doing community service.
Don’t get me wrong I like white people, I’m white too, I’m not proud of it, but, esta verdad amigos…esta verdad.
Pedro…the great white dope.
Lots of folks have written in and asked (after witnessing a rather large Hispanic male in a seafoam green pantsuit dancing near the mainstage at Saturdays street concert) Was that indeed our Nestor seen shaking it down to the unique song stylings of “Arrested Developement” ?
The complete lack of rhythm and timing was your first clue. That and the choker he was wearing…Rodrigo made it for him in rehab…That’s two things that don’t work…rehab and plastiweave.
Miss Robin and I were there too, but, keeping things a little more “grounded” shall we say…somebody has to drive home you know.
For me it’s about the people watching, these things…never miss ‘em.
Glad to know that “plaid shorts” are still the reliable indicator on middle aged broads to signify enthusiastic participation in a lesbian relationship that I had always assumed they were. You kids knew that right? It’s kinda like the black guy always being the “smartest guy in the room” in any space movie. It’s a constant.
Or submarine movie for that matter…Jon Bon Jovi in “UB 571″…Remember? The black cook, in 1943, not only could he re-start the scuttled engines and capably pilot the German U boat to safer waters, but, in between his other duties he also managed to crack the code of the infamous “Enigma” cypher generator/code translator left behind. .
And cooked a delightful Bouillbaisse, if the promos are to be believed.
Black people are scary smart in the movies, you put that out there long enough pretty soon you got a scary smart guy in the White House.